


Listen, The Snow Is Falling

by Cozy_coffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Community: comment_fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Nightmares, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-06
Updated: 2009-10-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/pseuds/Cozy_coffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the comment_fic prompt; Supernatural, author's choice, all he hopes for is a quiet peace of ground and a long sleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen, The Snow Is Falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tigriswolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/gifts).



He is hurting; his heart is breaking. The tears fall, making him look so much younger than his twenty-eight years. Streaking wetness dampens his freckles, but Sam holds him, cradles him tenderly, and wipes the tears from his cheeks with a soft brush of his thumb. 

Green eyes closed against the darkness of the motel room his mind shreds, twisted and torment with images of his mother. Mary burns in the firelight roar of violent flames. She screams, she cries, her teardrops falling down her cheeks like diamonds. Dean sees horrible things in his sleep and it terrifies him, causing him to scream out in the middle of the night. 

Dean will not talk about the nightmares, and Sam’s not pressing, but the younger man crawls onto the bed and gently tucks himself around Dean, cuddling him as his big brother cries. Sam gently strokes Dean’s face, fingertips brushing his freckled cheeks stained with sadness. He kisses Dean’s forehead and hugs him tight when the heartbreaking sobs wreck his brother’s body. Sam doesn’t cry; he stays strong for Dean, but his heart splitters when Dean cries their mother’s name. 

With Dean carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, it’s no wonder why he could not stand on his own two feet. 

The years are long, and the heart break is ever lasting. The days are dark, and it is not hard to figure out why. He can do the math, can put two-and-two together and if it doesn’t equal four, then he takes apart the equation, studies it, and he doesn’t stop until he either figures out why things don’t add up or he solves the problem. This problem is easy to solve. War is coming. The angels roar a battle cry and the demons howl at the night. Every day is a little bit longer and a lot darker. It ends blood or sad, that is the life, and Dean has made peace with that. He is still alive, breaths in the ash in the air, still keeps calm and carries on even when all he wants to do is crash and burn. 

His green eyes flutter closed, his body aches, his muscles burn like acid. ‘Keep calm and carry on wayward son’ his heart commands him, but his weary head and tied soul seek peace and rest. Dean winces against the rough drag of the prickling needle looping threads through his broken skin as Sam stitches him up. The cuts snarl deep, angry red, jagged against his pale freckled skin; the throbbing sting cuts through his veins as the needle slices into him. 

A shot whiskey dulls the pain. A wet cool towel to wipe away the blood with gentle hands. Dean can barely keep his eyes open, and he is pretty beat up and bloody and needs a shower, but when gentle lips kiss his forehead and soft hands tuck him into a cozy bed with warm blankets, he forgets about showering and easily submits to the hum of exhaustion.

Sam looks after him, cleans him up with a warm towel and dresses the wounds, tenderly kissing each knot of stitches laced into the skin. He hums a lullaby to his big brother as Dean’s wish for a quiet peace of ground and a long peaceful sleep is granted. 

♥ END ♥

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for this prompt!](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/86490.html?thread=19702746#t19702746)


End file.
